


eyes first

by spheeris1



Category: Orange is the New Black
Genre: F/F, Implications of very light D/s, Light Angst, Love, post-S3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 20:02:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4638399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spheeris1/pseuds/spheeris1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>drabble :: Alex POV :: post-S3 :: '...and Alex won't let on, not anymore, that the first thing she hopes for when she finally cracks open that shattered gaze is to see a glimpse of endless blue looking back at her.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	eyes first

Eyes first, always the eyes first – naïve and sweet but soon turning to cold and calculating – and Alex won't let on, not anymore, that the first thing she hopes for when she finally cracks open that shattered gaze is to see a glimpse of endless blue looking back at her.

Instead, there are the shades of sterile off-white and seafoam green and the blurry outline of someone saying her name, saying her name again and again.

“Ms. Vause...? Alex Vause?”

Has her face changed? Do they not know her? Shut up shut up shut up shut up.

“Ms. Vause, can you understand what I am saying to you?”

Understand? Yes. Care? No. And she goes back to sleep, heavy and tired and it's the eyes first, always the eyes first, tears spilling over without her consent because what she understands is that nothing will ever be the same.

**. . .**

_Piper is at her best in the morning, slightly sleepy and a little childish, and Alex can be tender then, can wrap the woman up in her long arms and press slumbering kisses to warm flesh. Piper laughs, a soft exhale, and so Alex flutters her fingertips along those ribs and Piper is at her most loving in the morning, safe and sure and forever._

_And Alex is caught by those eyes first, always the eyes first, gentle blinking blue like the autumn sky._

_And love swallows her whole._

**. . .**

They stare at each other and they stare past each other and they skirt around each other and they run into each other and they hold their blame and they cherish their guilt and they beat those dead horses oh so silently – Piper and someone else's words on her arm, Alex and a spiderweb of scars – and they spin some new tale of never really ending or never really beginning...

...or something.

Alex won't let on, though.

Alex won't let on that once she can sleep, once she can sleep and not want to shake, she dreams of Piper; she dreams of Piper's hands tight around her wrists, Piper's tongue buried deep inside of her, Piper's eyes burning so goddamn bright as she takes every last inch of whatever Alex has left to give – taking, taking, and still taking more.

But Alex doesn't let on, though.

Alex doesn't let on about just how much she wants to be taken these days.

**. . .**

_Piper is at her worst in the afternoon, serious as a heart-attack and so petulant, and Alex can shut it all down, can throw remarks back like knives and wound this woman that she swears to adore. Piper shouts, a fiery trumpet to this lovers Jericho, and so Alex crosses her arms, unmoved, and Piper is at her most cutting in the afternoon, unstable and weak and so close to gone._

_And Alex is caught by those eyes first, always the eyes first, a glare of ice that no sunlight can reach._

_And love strangles her until she cannot breathe._

**. . .**

Maybe it shows, beyond the criss-cross of violence upon her face, maybe the faltering shines out like a light and no one messes with her and no one tries to make her do anything or talk about anything, but maybe it shows anyway and it's the middle of the night and she can't stop crying in her stupid prison bed and someone is pulling her back, pulling her back even as she fights, and someone holds down her flailing arms, holds her down and whispers harshly into her ear - “...stop it or I'll make you stop...” - and Alex turns her head and there are those eyes, always the eyes first, always Piper's eyes, and maybe it shows, maybe it shows just how much she needs this, oh god she fucking she needs this, and Piper's lips fall against her, hard and rough, and Alex strains within this embrace but she doesn't really want to break free.

Maybe she wants to be bound.  
Maybe she wants to give in.  
Maybe she wants to be consumed like this.

And they struggle and they grapple and they are quick and mostly quiet and Piper isn't nice about it and Alex wishes this could last all night long and maybe it shows, beyond the stifled groans of stolen pleasure, maybe it shows that all Alex Vause wants is Piper Chapman and everything else can just go to hell.

**. . .**

They are at their best when they stop lying, when they strip away the varnish of deception and stand clean and tall and real, and Alex isn't sure if she'll ever feel like 'herself' again – whoever that woman was, she's a faded color now – but she is at her best today, one foot in front of the other as she rolls her slow gaze over these familiar walls, and she's at her best today, the imprint of Piper around her arms – affection blooming in blues and reds – and they are at their best today as they pass in the hallway and it's the eyes first, always the eyes first, and Piper doesn't have to smile because there's a wicked kind-of joy in that sea of blue.

And Alex is caught, just like always.

And it is love.

It is always love.

**. . .**

**[end]**

**Author's Note:**

> everything I write is so moody lately, lol  
> thanks to 'bluest bird' by allysen callery


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